


Subtle Trouble and The Universal Waves of Love

by enigma_scars



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abroad fic, Even Anne and Gemma are assholes, HArry's dad is an asshole in this fic, Harry has like really long hair, Harry is a lawyer, I am trying to be politically accurate, Lot's of subtle hinting, Louis is a BBC Travel expert, M/M, New York is a trash dump according to this fic, No Smut, Read this to understand this mess, So are Niall and Liam, Sorry Not Sorry, Tags Are Hard, There's like one kissing scene, They can't be gay in marrakesh, and it's mentioned several times, based in marrakesh, like waist length, sad life yall, sorry - Freeform, there's like flashback's from another lifetime that these two lived together, they are plenty gay there, zayn is the director, ziam is minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma_scars/pseuds/enigma_scars
Summary: Harry is a sad and pathetic human who lives on his father's word's. Said father is a rich asshole with no heart and only morals that favour him.Louis is a travel agent whose life was saved from a huge debt because said Harry is a lawyer who works at Louis' friend's firm and said lawyer doesn't like to lose his cases.They meet again almost 4 years later in the middle of Marrakesh. But you just can't be gay in the middle of an Islamic nation.However, confessions are made; emotions are formed and then it's time to leave.Tragic time-line skip. Both realize that what they did was pretty stupid.Harry quits his job to go find Louis.Louis and Harry live together happily ever after.Plus a side of nostalgic other lifetime flashbacks that neither of them knew they lived together. Basically the gay soulmate AU+Marrakesh tourism™.





	Subtle Trouble and The Universal Waves of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> That was a pretty embarrassing summary. I know. I am bad at summarizing. Also, that was way too straight-forward. I can't believe I typed that out with a straight face. Anyways. I cannot write any scandalous gay scenes in here, because  
> 1) Marrakesh is not yet LGBTQ+ friendly.  
> 2) Both my boys are dumb af.  
> 3) Subtle kissing and heart-felt talks about how they want to stay no-strings-attached-because-we-might-fuck-up and they still somehow end up fucking it up.  
> 4) Because I am writing it like the script of a BL novel not a Yaoi or fetishizing the relationship. (not that we fetishize the relationship other times).  
> Also soft boys, tryna be hard boys, but loving softly. My gaesthetic 2Kgayteen.  
> Also,  
> Songs for the fic:  
> • Signal- TK from Ling Tosite Sigure.  
> • Unravel (acoustic) - TK from Ling Tosite Sigure.  
> • CAN’T STOP THE FEELING – Justin Timberlake.  
> • Sky full of stars- Coldplay.  
> • BeFoUr- ZAYN.  
> • End of the Day- 1D.  
> • Thinking Out Loud- Ed Sheeran.  
> • London by Night- Frank Sinatra.  
> • My Man’s Gone Now- Sarah Vaughan.  
> • The Other Half of Me- Sarah Vaughan.  
> • Dedicated to you- Sarah Vaughan.  
> • Stardust- Sarah Vaughan.  
> • Every time I see you- Sarah Vaughan.  
> • When your lover has gone- Sarah Vaughan.  
> (It’s not like these songs go with the fic or anything, but I felt them while writing. Also, these are some of my faves of all time! All the Sarah Vaughan songs inspired the past Heath-Lukas arc. But also the part where Haz thinks about Louis and vice versa. ‘Signal’, a Japanese song, is for when Haz is telling his past. It fits because extra sad mf. Also unravel goes to sad scenes too. And is more for their moments of self-awareness. Also, this writing pattern is inspired by erratic anime Bishonens. And the themes are from Shounen Ai’s I binged on before writing this. So in simpler terms imagine the boys as the following characters:  
> • Harry as Takashiro Giou.  
> • Louis as Kousuke Ooshiba.  
> • Liam as Kotaro Amon.  
> • Niall as Nero Vanetti.  
> • Zayn as Kousuke Mamizuka.  
> • Viola Stryk Vanderbilt as the Old Lady from Tokyo Ghoul.  
> • Heath Stryk as Yuki Giou.  
> • Lukas Thornton as Luka Crosszeria. )
> 
> Lotsa love,  
> M.  
> <3

14th February, 1954

 

Now Heath wasn’t really a loner, just quite the opposite, he was the centre of attraction of any party he walked into. He was a social butterfly, he walked into the room and people turned heads to catch a glimpse. He would shake hands with each person. He would hug some and banter with some others.

 But the truth was in the biggest social circle, he was still alone.

 All those people who were the so called ‘friends’ were nothing more that faceless strangers he would see every time he went somewhere. Now he definitely wanted to talk to someone. But there was really no one. So he ended up leaving his estate and decided to walk around.

If you asked anybody, they would describe him as the coy young man with the chocolate curls and emerald eyes, crinkly smile and dimples larger than the craters on moon.  

But that was just Heath Stryk for all.

Erratic, bratty, childish, famous, dumb, but beautiful, out of depth and most probably just a pretty face to look at. He was the trophy friend. Born with a silver spoon in mouth, money like it rained in Britain, face gifted by the god’s, personality crafted by the best character school in all of the world and kept absolutely hidden by the world’s atrocities by his overbearing parents who have coddled him till the age of 22. Not anymore. At the age of 27, Heath stood confused.

Heath had it all, the looks, the attitude, the money, everything. But he was still empty. Not in the sad type of way, but in the empty cookie-jar type of way. Or the ‘nobody to walk in the night’ type of way. It’s a lingering disappointment at most. It’s the void that can immediately fill up. Like buying another batch of cookies or driving alone with the windows down. But it leaves a caved in hollow, no matter how hard you try. Does this feeling have a name that is not sadness or loneliness?

Yes, inexperience.

Heath Stryk was inexperienced. He didn’t know how to live life. And it wasn’t because he was too busy in the limelight, but because he was free, too eased, too laid-back and maybe a little entitled, to name some reasons.

He was the king who lost his bird and now he was lonely but too damn hung up to find another.

 

“Luka? Lukas? Could you pick me up? I am downtown. By Abbey Road and Park. At the signal next to the Library. Yeah. No, I am not drunk. No just left for a walk.” Heath murmured into the speaker.

There were tears streaming down his face. And he wiped at them furiously. His voice remained undeterred. Lukas, his butler, arrived quick enough to assume that he was expecting this to happen.

“Would you like a tissue?”

“Yes please.” Heath said as he hid his face under his fedora.

He grabbed as many as ten tissues and wiped frantically till his face was dry and red.

 “What happened? It’s Valentine’s Day, you know?” Luka asks.

“Nothing just some stupid thoughts, as usual. Ain’t nothing the matter. I am a big boy, this doesn’t bother me.” Heath insisted as he looked up with a smile too cheerful.

“Great. You have learnt to lie.” Luka gives him a sad smile.

“I taught you how to lie; I hope I can catch you in the act and nobody else. Especially not Madame Stryk or Mistress Stryk. Or Master Stryk for that matter.” Lukas chuckles.

Heath pulls out a cigarette and offers one to Luka who takes one and Heath light up both their cigarettes.

“It’s sort of conflicting when I think about it. Like I am supposed to be the person everyone loves. Why is it that my mother doesn’t love me? Why doesn’t dad love me? Like Viola only tolerates me. And then there’s you Luka. You love me, somehow. And I am not saying this to prove a point. But the thing is people who are related to me by blood still choose to look down upon me and then there are people who see my shiny cover and always want a piece of me. And then there’s you, you have no use of me. You are the person assigned to me by the woman I call mother. You don’t need me, I need you. I am dependant on you. Although I think that maybe you are just doing it to get your pay.”

“Stop!” Lukas shrieked. “You know that’s not at all true. Why would you even choose to think it that way? I mean, have I ever done anything to make you think that way? If it is my fault, I am sorry. But you know I grew up with you. Jesus Christ, my dad still thinks that I only do it just because we are the family that is meant to be under you, serving you. But I don’t. I used to despise you. But I saw the loneliness and desperation and honesty, blood-thirsty despairing honesty, in your eight year old eyes. I lost all my malcontent, I looked at your tears and all I could think was how I never wanted to see you cry.” Lukas reached out to touch Heath’s cheek.

“Shut up. Asshole. I really hate you. You know! God! Why would you say that? I love you. And those stupidly compassionate blue eyes.” Heath melts into the warmth of his butler’s hand.

 

~~~

 

Their love was pure, though socially unapproved; a hidden love was still love.

But as it goes in the clichés of uncharacteristic, forbidden love stories, the butler-master pair was caught at cross roads. Caught red-handed was their romance by Viola Stryk, the evil sister who only wanted the devastated couple to face the apprehending humiliation.

Their love was put to court in front of the elders of the family. The verdict was death. The arguments were none. The proof was words. The couple tried running away, eloping as some might say. But being the son of a wealthy man made it difficult to sneak about. With a hundred henchmen at their backs and no money or power or relations, with a life they thought they lived enough they kissed one final time as the guns cocked in their directions.

Love was assassinated.

 

 

 

 

21st February, 2014,

“Harry Styles, my boy! How are you? You’ve grown so big! It’s been so long since I last saw you! All 8 years of it! Aah!” Selene said as she accepted Harry’s hug.

“How are you Selene? College and work kept me away, but I am back now. Don’t think you will be getting rid of me.” Harry says, smirking slightly. The men behind him carry his stuff to his room. He follows after them and thanks them before the gloom of being back takes over him.

He often felt empty in this house he called his own.

 

Calling him down for the day’s meal, he dresses up the way his dad always wanted him to. A custom-made YSL navy coloured suit and tie, and his long hair tied in a slick pony tail, the hair sliding down to the middle of his back. The silver cross passed down through centuries of generations hung across his neck. And an air of nobility around him.

He thought maybe this new him would gain him some attention. Maybe they will see this facade and trust it wholly. Maybe they will accept him as one of their own. But all his father said, “If you still haven’t gotten a job in England, then you will be required at Mr. Payne’s office. Tomorrow, 8 AM sharp. Don’t be late.”

No welcome back home or a kind greeting. His father was as cruel as ever. Placing an order and expecting the other to simply run with it.

The family had a rule of no talking at the dining table. But he expected his mother and sister to at least acknowledge the fact that there were four plates instead of three, and a human, a son, a brother was sitting across them.

Alas, expectations are meant to be broken. Disappointment looms in the air above him as he decides to leave and orders one of the server’s to bring his food to his room. He bows to everybody, and announces his leave. But as he does so, his father says, “A man, who won’t eat at the table, won’t eat at all.”  
Harry looks astounded at his father who silently chews at his steak.

This was new. No one ever had this rule. But now that he thinks of it. His dad had always sat at the head of the table, monitoring everybody’s eating. He had never missed a single dinner. Maybe it was a silent rule, one they all subconsciously followed at some level. But he had a pride, some self-respect left over from all the wars he fought on his own.

“Fine.” He said as he bowed again, simply leaving.

It’s always been said that sons and fathers never do get along. There had to be the hostility covering the atmosphere, the threat of the deranged alpha, and the jealousy of being the superior, better one. Men and their complexes.

Harry had never thought he was going to end up in an atmosphere like that, but as it goes, the nature’s rule always overrules all expectations. Two strong, egoistic men cannot survive peacefully under the same roof.

 

~~~

 

 

“Mr. Payne, I am Harry. Harry Styles.” Harry introduces himself to the man who looked his own age.

“Oh, you are Harry? I have heard great things about you. One of the toppers of the class, Harvard. Not the valedictorian, but second best so.  Worked as an intern as the Assistant of District Attorney at New York. As senior associate for 3 year and two months you worked at Preston & Delaware Lit. Also, you are Desmond’s son. If you are anything like your dad, we will go great ways together.” Harry hated this man already. If he was anything like his father, sheesh.

“You can all me Liam. Come with me, I will give you a tour of the entire place. By the way, don’t think of me as your boss. I am only a little senior to you. By the way, my dad used to be the boss until last year, but then he got into an accident and now he has a paralysed left side, so I and the prior partner look over the firm.” Liam says.

Now Harry was already feeling the annoyance grow in his stomach and the irritation gnaw at his throat. This guy, who did he think he was. Having a polite voice, some soft brown eyes, a kind of niceness and gentleness oozing off the top, and now he has a back-story? Thoughts ran haywire just as soon as Liam put his hand on his waist to pull him back right before he went crashing into the mail-van.

“Watch where you are going. You might get hurt. I am sorry, I crossed my boundaries, but I had to.” Liam said as he slowly removed his hand. Harry glanced down and immediately caught eye of the fading away tail of a tattoo under Liam’s sleeve. He looked up to find Liam looking at him carefully, a bit embarrassed.

“I, uh, I am sorry. I wasn’t looking.” Harry said, confused.

“No problem. Anyways as I was saying, we work together on floors 10th to 16th. Each has different departments. The top bosses sit on the 15th floor. The interns work on the 12th. The IT department is on the 11th. We don’t have a 13th floor. Each floor has different reception desks. The mail room is on the 16th, along with the library and case archives. By next week we will get your personalized ID and your employee code. For now you can use the AIYN code that will change every 6hrs. Here’s your code.” Liam says as he pushes a key-card kind of thing at him. “You need to go to Andy to get the renewed code if you work for more than six hours. Also, we will get you a personalized Mac Book for Office use only. It will have a card slot for your ID and Employee code. Also, you have to come in tomorrow to get your biometrics fed into the system.”

“Why not today?”

“Mina isn’t here today. She is the head of the IT dept. But she had to go to our IT farm in Brighton. We were facing a bug in the system for a couple of days. Apparently, someone tried to decrypt her encodings that protect our files from outside viewing. Basically, a planned attack or hack. Anyways, moving ahead.”

 A bubbly blond guy came rushing to them with a wide smile. “Liam, great news. The Hera Foundation case went through. The DA will be listening to the case on the 20th. Also, the ‘pro bono’ cases are pending; we need to take care of them by the end of this month or else.” The guy makes a face. And continues, “BTW who is this? And what happened to that snob who was gonna come in? What was his name again, Styles or something?” Liam coughs and makes a gesture.

“Oh you. You are Styles. What’s your name? By the way, I am Niall. Niall Horan.” The guy, Niall Rude Horan said.

“Hi, yes, I am the snob. Harry Styles. Next time you do not want snobs as employees, I advise you don’t look for Harvard grads. Good to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, asshole.” Niall smiles, genuinely. “I like a guy who doesn’t take anybody’s shit. I look forward to working with you.” And he leaves.

“That’s Niall for you. He is Irish, thinks he is American and is a top-notch lawyer. So don’t mind his swearing and laid-back attitude. He is head of the taxation and banking department. Now, you. I should show you where you will be working.” Liam leads him towards the lift. He presses the button for the 14th floor. “Over here,” Liam says as he leads him out, “we have our criminal, basic civil, and class three petition departments. The cabins at the end of the hall are the HoDs. You will get an assistant. Choose one from the interns or if you don’t like any, you can arrange for interviews.”

“Why would I need an assistant?” Harry asked, confused, only now remembering, they didn’t talk about his post, his package, anything.

“Well the newest Senior Associate of the Payne and Payne Association will need an assistant. Now I know, you were the best closing lawyer in all of New York and the county; we need you to be the best closing lawyer or settlement lawyer in England. I think it would be best to try your hands first at the pro-bono cases starting tomorrow. The door on the right will hold you name by Thursday.” Harry looked out the glass wall and saw the world below him. For the first time, he wanted to feel proud of where he was standing. The world seemed to stop and look. “And your starting package will be £76,000/-, bi-annual trips around the globe, tax benefits, and a chauffeur-driven car to bring you anywhere business related. Choose the driver and the car, I will send you the list. Also, a yearly column in the Oxford Law Review. And this is just the beginning.”

The words stopped him in his tracks. “It won’t be long before we make you Junior Partner. Don’t think of Niall as a competition, he is merely an ally. He will help you in whatever you want. Also, his secretary will help you out in selecting an assistant tomorrow.”

Liam looks him straight in the eye, with a hawkish glint and says, “If I see you tomorrow at 8:00 AM tomorrow, I will think you agreed to my proposal, but if you are not here, then the offers off the table.”

This all was an offer? Harry thought that this was an order, and now this guy turns around to tell him that all of this will be his, if he chooses to agree. Was Harry mad to say no to something like this? Well, no. So yes, he was going to choose this.

“Great. By the way, the glass is sound proof, so you can play music if you want. And the 17th, 18th and 19th floors are our recreational zones. Bars, swimming pools, squash, poker, whatever you can think of. Have a great day.” Liam said with a last glance at Harry.

“Also, I like your hair like that. Let it loose in a pony-tail once in a while at the office, we don’t have strict rules regarding this.”

 

 

~~~

 

 

6th January, 1953

“Luka. Luka. Wake up Luka.” Heath said.

“Hmm. Let me sleep a little longer. I was awake the whole night.” Luka whispered.

Heath peered down at the chestnut haired man, lips pressed together. He saw the man had his eyes closed. So he leaned down and connected their lips. He got an immediate response, hands tightening around his waist and fingers rubbing circles on his lower back and a forceful reply of the lips. A bite lingering back, a soft groan, fingers pressing into soft flesh, and the flutter of eyelashes on the cheek.

“This is what a good life seems like. Alright, Princess, I am awake, what now?” Luka said getting up.

“Well, we were kissing a moment ago, how about we continue?”Heath said, lips soft and plump, body pliant.

Luka pushed Heath on the soft silken duvet and pressed their palms together, spreading them over Heath’s head. He pushed his knee between Heath’s thighs and gently looked at the way heath was spread under him, their breath’s hitching. A soft moment shared before the piercing want for each other’s warmth took over.

 

~~~

 

 

25th August, 2017

“And now, introducing our newest Partner, Mr. Harry Styles.” Liam said addressing the board of Directors directly. The room applauded and congratulated before Liam invited them for drinks.

Harry  stayed back and looked at the view outside. He couldn’t believe it. Not the being named partner, but the how he climbed this staircase filled with struggles himself. When did his utterly miserable life become simplified? When did he become so uncomplicated? Was this all he ever needed? A standing of his own in this world, a place where he could be himself. No, was he himself?

“Thinking?” Liam interrupted. “Sorry, go back to thinking. Just thought you looked gloomier than ever.” Liam is about to leave when he returns and speaks up, “You know, I know why I like you, Harry. It’s not because you work just as hard and smartly like your father. It’s because you are kinder, you are soulful and have a really great mind to heart connection. I knew you weren’t like Desmond the day you walked in, and you still when I compared you to him, you maintained composure. You don’t let something take over you. Your emotions are not inflicted by people around you. You are a stern man with a goal oriented mind. I don’t know what you are looking for, but I wish someday you will find it. You are a good man Harry. I am not saying this as your partner or as your friend. I say this as a man with a soul. I really wish the empty look in your eyes vanish someday. Take the rest of the night off, the party, you can miss it. Good night, Harry Styles.” Liam says, his hand pressing into Harry’s shoulder-blade.

 

An empty man, hmm. Life was cruel.

 

~~~

 

 

27th April, 1951

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Father, believe me. I don’t want to marry someone. I, I want to stand on my feet before you tie me up with someone. Especially, some businessman’s daughter that will get you great connections or whatever. I am a teacher. I am not equipped to go off to marry a woman who’s bred into money.” Heath looked bewildered.

“I stay in a home you bought me, with cars that you bought, with servants and maids you have under your pay. I may look like an independent man, but am I? I am just a public high school teacher who teaches children English and French, and a man whose father is afraid to see the man his son can be.” Heath said angrily.

“Son! I will not force you to marry. It’s alright, if that is all you want. But you will not abandon the house we have given you.” Mr. Stryk said.

“Take away all the servants. Except for Mr. Thornton. I need one car, all the rest come back here. And that’s that.” Heath said. His father begrudgingly agreed.

 

~~~

 

“You did what?” Lukas asked as Heath explained what he did. “Why did you do that?”

“So that we can live alone. We can live the life we have always dreamed  of. I will not live my life on that man’s terms. No matter how much he thinks he owns me, I am not his property. I belong to someone else. Mind, body, heart and soul.” Heath said, looking at Lukas with tears in his eyes.

“I love you, Heath. I really do. I can’t believe you did all of this for our sake. I can’t be more grateful.” Lukas said.

“I know Luka. I love you. A lot.”

 

~~~

 

‘What is love?’ Heath typed on the typewriter.

‘Who knows what love is? Why is love a core human emotion? Why do you think humans associate love with certain things? Rain is love. Man is  love. A dog is love. A rose is love. A balloon is love. Tears are love. The ocean is love. The night sky is love. The sun-lit park is love. The laughter unabashed, unashamed is love. The day at the pier looking over the rocky sea is love. The sound of breathing and the rise and fall of someone’s chest is love.

We know its love when we see a child cry and a mother silence the child. We know its love when a woman blushes at the courteous gesture of her partner. Its love when a man gives up everything he has for the one he calls his own.

People in this world filled with hatred, realize that someday all will end, and nothing shall remain. But love, it kills you every dying, breath-filled minute, and rebirth awaits you every moment you spend with that aching heart.

Because it’s a moment’s realization, people tend to forget the long struggle they spend at war with themselves, heart, body and mind.’

 “Luka! Read this for me, darling!”Heath shouted out from his study after he finished the excerpt he was working on. He heard calm footsteps leading up to him. He drops his spectacles and handed over the sheet to Lukas.

Luka was dressed in his regular clothes, a beige sweater, bourbon coloured pants and hair a mess. Since Mr. Stryk called back all the servants, Lukas had started living with Heath the way they always dreamed of living, like normal couples.

The small halogen table light lit up the corner of the room, the streetlights shined in, and casting shadows on Heath’s face. Lukas read the page and sighed. Since Heath found his love for writing, he had been writing these small stories, which could be perceived in numerous ways. He wasn’t trying to get published but the works were worth reading. They were all different, but the love in them never changed.

“This is beautiful.”Lukas said before he went towards the music player. The cassette had Sarah Vaughan’s Gloomy Sunday in. Track 2 played through the speakers. Lukas walked back and Heath looked at him like a lovesick fool, eyes softening, and the drunkenness of love taking over.

Lukas grabbed Heath’s hand and sang along as he embraced him and slowly danced.

“Every time, I see you. I realize that I am so in love with you.

Every time I kiss you, you take me, you take me by the hand.

And in some enchanted land where all my dreams come true when you’re close and beside me.

My life is full of some marvellous crazy things.

It’s no wonder my heart is tied. It’s no wonder my heart is tied. It’s just plain tied up, tied up.

Oh when you go away, each day is just another day to hurry through but I live again every time I see you. Every time I see you.”

Lukas sings, Heath’s chin rests on his shoulder. The slow music keeps them from moving too hastily. Heath leans back and kisses Lukas sweetly. Lukas swings their hips together accepting the happy sugary kiss.

 

~~~

 

 

 

14th June, 2018

“Harry! Hi, yeah. I think you applied for a mental health leave. May I know why?” Liam asks, closing the door behind him. The golden letters of Harry’s name and designation shines with the sun.

“Yes, my therapist, Delilah. The one you told me to go to, says I need to leave the city, or maybe the country to have myself a little holiday. She thinks, I am absolutely losing it.” Harry says looking as cheery as he can. Losing his composure won’t help.

“I haven’t taken a single leave since the time I started working here.  Think I deserve a long holiday. I’ll be working online with you, but I probably can’t come in. I don’t want to be a bother. But I need it. Look me in the eye and tell me, it doesn’t look like I need a break.” Harry got up from his seat and glared into Liam’s eyes. The bags under his eyes, his thinning skin, the crowfeet by his eyes, the purple blemishes on his skin, the cheeks hollowed.

“Have you lost weight?” Liam asked.

“Yes, all of 25kgs in the past three months, Liam, thanks for noticing.” Harry answered sarcastically.

Liam brushed a hand through his hair and blinked hard. Lips pursing and looking great in thought, Liam abruptly said, “Fine. Fine. But the company will pay for the trip and all that knick-knack. You can have the entire month of July to yourself. But that’s it. No one will call you, or whatever. Have a great holiday. I’ll tell the people.”

“Thank you, Liam.”Harry said, slouching back and going to sit back. He rotated the chair to stare at the glass wall overlooking the city.  He needed this. A change of scenery might do him good.

“The owner of the famous business family of Stryk and the last living Heir, Viola Stryk is holding a sale to sell off things that has been in the family for centuries and some which hold historic importance. The 83 year old heiress, has some secrets to spill and lot’s of history to sell. For further details, call the below number. The sale is going to be held from 24th June to 30th June.

TV noises fades away, the  face of the heiress blinks on the TV screen and a sudden hatred for her rises in Harry’s chest.  Bile rises in his throat and he has to run to the washroom before he emptied his guts into the toilet bowl. His vision blurred and his head felt heavy. Before he knew he collapsed on the floor.

Harry wakes up to a wet cloth wiping at his face. He hears the distant bleeping of a heart monitor and he feels a pain in his forearm where a saline syringe was poked into his skin. There was a male nurse wiping at his body.

“Where am I?” Harry asked, his mouth holding a bitter taste.

“You are at the London University Hospital. Sir, I am going to call the doctor now.  Do you need anything?” The nurse asks.

“Can I get some mouthwash please.” Harry asks.

“Right away, sir.” He gets his mouthwash and soon enough there’s a doctor standing by his bedside explaining what happened.

“Your blood-pressure plummeted. It was very low. And you had a concussion as you hit the doorknob before you fell. You were unconscious for 18 hours. But now you are fine. However, you need to monitor your blood pressure, such a drop is not good for you. You could have gone into a coma or could have suffered a haemorrhage.” The doctor warns. A few check-ups later, Harry was let out. He heaved a sigh as he took a cab back home. Selene opened the door, worry looming at her face as she carefully eyed the bandage on Harry’s head. It seemed like he had lost a lot of blood when he hit the door knob. It was a long-while before someone went looking for him. And when they did, they found him like that, on the floor, bleeding out from the head.

When he entered, there was no worried mother asking questions, or a sister joking about his clumsiness. There was no stern father telling him to take care of himself. Just a bunch of people he shared a shred of DNA with.

The next day he went back to the office and Liam asked about his health and Niall joked around it. His assistant, Maki just sighed heavily and that was that.

After giving it a lot of thought, he decided he wanted to go to the sale the heiress was organizing. He told Maki to book him for the sale.

 

~~~

 

 

24th June, 2018

 

“Welcome, Mr. Styles. Would you like to have a brochure? The brochure gives you all the information about the goods that are being sold today. Its only $5.” The girl at the reception asks.

“Yeah thanks.” Harry says as he pays for the brochure.

“If you follow the directions, the signboards say what room sells what. Everything is on show, touching is allowed to guarantee what is being sold is genuine. Just ask one of the managers if you want to buy something. Have a great day.”

The mansion looked beautiful from outside. It was to be expected from the Former Count of Brighton, Count Stryk and their loyal servants of Thornton.

The place brought with beautiful scenery, a sense of nostalgia he was wary to. His body felt hyper-aware of his situations. Even the slightest change on his environment made a chill run down Harry’s spine. Eerie. The area around the reception was a beautiful, red and gold wallpaper and drapes around the marble pillars. Soft music played in the background. People were chattering around, some looking at the fountain in the middle of the entrance,  a single white vase upturned and pouring. Even that was on sale. Harry had no place for a fountain at his Father’s house. There was a painting on the wall, an abstract painting, something that looked a lot like war and death and chaos. It was being sold for £5,000/- Why would anyone buy a horrifying painting like that? No matter how beautiful, it looked ghastly, like a live depiction of Harry’s own mind. He moved ahead.

He saw that some family photos were there under the velvet drapes that lined the walls, they weren’t on sale, but a particular image caught his eye. There in the corner was the picture of a guy in a traditional black suit, a smile that made his dimples pop out and eyes that shone like emeralds under the sun. His hair was curly all over, a mop of thick chocolate hair covering half his forehead. He was beautiful. He saw that he looked the same in a dozen pictures, with the only exception being the length of his hair. One picture made him stop altogether, like a system shutdown. The same man was sat next to a standing man with chestnut hair that looked like feathers and a sharp nose and blue eyes deeper than the Pacific Ocean, his cheekbones were sharp and he was dressed like a butler. Why had he taken pictures with his butler? Harry couldn’t help but wonder.

“Heath...” A voice whispered next to him. The voice was breathy, and aged. He turned to see Viola Stryk Vanderbilt standing next to him.

“I am sorry, I was just looking.” Harry said, even when he was overwhelmed with anger, he held his composure.

 “I am sorry, darling. It’s just that you look a lot like the man in the picture you were looking at. Pardon me, I am Viola Vanderbilt. That man in the picture was my brother and his childhood friend and butler, Lukas Thornton. You just happen to look very much alike my dead brother. He was perhaps your age when he died. Would you like to know more about him?” Viola asks, a glum but happy look taking over her wrinkled features.

Harry accompanied her over to the red throne like chair set. Viola sat down and looked at Harry.

“Could you let down your hair? It’s very beautiful.” Viola said.

“Sure.” Harry said, a little confused. He opened his bun and his hair cascaded down to his mid-back. It was thick and a little wavy, but it suited him.

Viola was filled with glee. “Your hair is the same colour as my brother’s. His name was Heath Edwin. What is your name?”

“I am Harry Styles.” Harry said nonchalantly.

“Eerie. Very eerie. Your looks and your number of alphabets in your names. They match a lot. I wonder if your personality matches too. Tell me Harry, if your father was overbearing would you still co-operate with him?”

“I do. I co-operate every day. He sent me away to The States so that I could obtain my law degree, and because I had a rebellious phase, the scars and tattoos on my body are the witnesses of a time as such.” Harry didn’t know why he was answering so truthfully.

“Very well. And do you often feel alone in a room full of people?”

“Yes, I do. It’s something I have faced since my early days.”

“And do you blame your mother and sister for all the bitterness that clogs your heart?”

“It’s not like they are totally at fault. I mean to some extent they are responsible. But I guess circumstances and the way in which we lived dictated a lot of my life’s troubles.”

“Do you hate your father? To the point of no return?”

“My father is the type of man who says family means everything to him, but he goes ahead and badgers me till I fall and break so bad I can never get up. I tried to end my life way back when I was just turning 20. But all I received was a bunch of roses, two frantic phone calls and money transfers. I hate roses. And then I realized that day that for my father, I was only $45,000 and a chauffeur-driven car, nothing more. No one cared if I died. Tell me why I shouldn’t hate him?” Harry said, anger and sadness overwhelming him.

“Seems like something Heath would say. I am astonished at the similarity you both bear. The way your families treated you to the way you look, it’s like I am looking at Heath right now.” Viola smiled. “If you don’t mind I would like to give you something. It’s definitely something you would like to buy.”

Harry followed the old lady to the second floor where the hallways changed colours to Green and silver.

There where the crowd was dense, she opened a small blue jewellery box. Inside were two brooches. Two gems set in gold. And they looked like they were alive. Like they were a mismatched pair of eyes.

“They are beautiful.”Harry gasped.

“You can have them. They were originally brought from Morocco. They belonged to the 11th Century King Muhammad Al Nasir. They were being sold at a black market auction. But my brother’s butler, Lukas, he got away without paying for them somehow. And he brought them home. As you can see the insides aren’t solid. And it will never be solid. It’s made in a way which allows it to always be fluid. You can see the brooch holes. You can put it on a pin, or put it through a thread around your neck or arm.” Viola says excitedly.

“But there are two, of different colours. One is blue and the other green.” Harry says.

“That’s a Zircon. And the other is an Alexandrite. They are precious. And they are set in 22k gold and platinum alloy.” Viola smiles. “I just wanted someone worthy to have it. Here you go. Follow me now. I have some more to give you.”

Harry follows the woman where inside a glass case laid a simple typewriter. It was aesthetically pleasing. It came with a case and was lightweight. It was beautiful. Harry accepted to buy it, but she insisted he take it for free.

“What I do want you to do is if you ever find yourself free for a long time and need a good vacation, I want you to go to Morocco. My brother always wanted to go to Marrakesh, but he never could. He died very young.” The regret in her voice was evident.

“Actually, I am about to go on a vacation this July. I was thinking if Morocco would be a good spot?”

 

~~~

 

 

3rd July, 2018

“Thank You for choosing British Airways.” Harry smiled and nodded as he got off the flight. He had a guidebook in hand and he was appropriately dressed to face the heat. The women in Marrakesh were dressed traditionally, and the men had turbans on their heads. He had read online what he should carry and what all things would be appropriate for him to bring along. It was a strict Islamic nation, and he didn’t want to offend anybody by mistake.

He did the currency change at the airport and was ready to go. Although it was illegal to be homosexual, Harry thought it was no big deal, he wasn’t here with a partner, and he wouldn’t be caught that way. He just looked like every other sun-burnt white guy in the shorts and sun-glasses, sweat dripping off every pore of his body. He got a cab from the airport and asked the driver to drive him to La Mamounia. He had made reservations beforehand. He paid the driver who charged double of what was necessary, but that’s okay, he thought. At the hotel reception he was given a grand welcome. The place looked exotic. Covered in domes and palm trees, camels and ancient designs, and traditionally dressed men, it was beautiful. He was welcomed in and the bell-hop helped him take his luggage up to his Koutoubia suite. The room was royal. The balcony opened up to an entire corridor. He thought he was looking at one of the rooms from Sex and the City. Well, it looked even better in person. Although expensive, he loved every moment of pampering he was giving himself. He was going to be staying here for at least a week. Before he moved ahead.

He was jet-lagged so he decided to take a bath and then food. He asked his butler, “Hakim” to set up the bath for him while he changed and put his things away. Hakim did that while Harry went about his business, putting all his things in place and deciding what to eat and where to go and what to do.

When he was done he went to the bathroom and his jaw fell to the floor. The bathroom was dimly lit by candles and there were rose-petals in the bath. He decided to thank Hakim later and instead got into the bath and relaxed. The water smelt musky and spice-filled. And even the water felt like it was over the top. Harry fell asleep in the water. He was woken up half an hour later by a worried Hakim who thought, Harry had drowned.

He asked Hakim to advise him on what to eat and Hakim told him to go easy on the palette the first day and helped him order a “Kefta Magawara. That is a morocco style meat-balls in zesty tomato sauce, served with eggs and bread made out of Semolina.” It was spicy but very tasty. Harry went to bed feeling tired and jet-lagged, but he felt better than he had in a while.

Tomorrow was a day filled with adventures.

More than what he paid for.

 

July, 2018

 

Harry had this grand idea that he could roam around without a tour guide, with only a guidebook and a basic communication skill. How wrong he was! The moment he stepped off at the souk, men in turbans with wild beards and accented English started hounding him, selling him expensive watches to leather belts and wallets. He didn’t look anyone in the eye but declined everyone politely. The men stopped hounding him, just snickering at him and his clothing. He thought wearing a simple off-whitish djellaba with golden embroidery along the neck and sleeves, a khadi headscarf and black jeans. He had a camera around his neck and a travel bag on his shoulder. Though he felt a bit hotter than the summers he has seen in England or America. Okay, not lying at all, he was burning up. He had red splotches everywhere, he couldn’t walk half a kilometre without having to reapply his 120% SPF protection sunscreen, and he had three water bottles in his bag, so even though it was awesome, it was  hot as hell.

Entering deeper into the souk, he saw a traditional shoe store. Oh man, was he feeling like Sarah Jessica Parker. He went up to the man and asked the man how much were the shoes for. He bought himself Babouches that were colourful slip-ons. He paid the man 200 Dirhams and moved on. 

Having taken a look at various shops at the souk, Harry decides he wanted to get a look at the Koutoubia Mosque. It was set in the south-west Medina Quarter. Harry walked around the mosque, clicking pictures of the beautiful walls and all when he accidentally bumped into a guy.

“Hey, hey, hey! Watch where you are going, aye mate. The country’s pretty women are dangerous, bump into one of ‘em like that and ten men be ready to kill ye. Lucky you, it’s just me.” Harry look at the guy who was wearing touristy clothes had a unruly beard, tousled hair under the hat, sunglasses that covered his entire face and a large crew following the guy.

“Um, sorry.” Harry says. “I was just clicking pictures of the mosque. It’s a real beauty.” Harry says.

“Brit! Who do you work for? Are you from Nat Geo? Fox? Some online blog? Are you a rival? Foe or friend?” The guy, dubbed as Shorty, asks in a flurry.

“Um, no. I don’t work for any channel. I am a lawyer. I am just being touristy this time of the year.” Harry explains.

“Louis, leave the guy alone. I am about to set up the place, how about you refresh. Make-up. Guys, five to film.” A guy in the back who was wearing a #1 Director cap on his head screamed.

The people disbanded, but Shorty, Louis, stood still.

He extended his upright palm and waited for Harry to take it. “Louis. Louis Tomlinson. BBC World, Travel expert and Host.”

Harry shakes his hand and says, “Harry. Harry Styles. Payne, Smith & Styles Lit., Partner and Closing lawyer.”

Louis removes his sunglasses to reveal two bright blue eyes. Eyes that suddenly reminded Harry of the blue brooch, and a waft of nostalgia and an unsettling gut feeling. Louis squinted at him and said, “Have we, uh, have we ever met before?”

Harry looked at him confused and says, “No, I would have remembered those eyes.”

“Stay for the shoot, I would like to hang with another Brit. Been ages since met someone from back home.” Louis says, more like demands.

Harry has no choice but to accept, those seductive blue eyes were enough to make him do anything. Harry lingers behind the crew’s sight and just watches as everyone bustles around, quick on their feet.

“Camera in, 3, 2...” And the one was silently mouthed.

“Welcome to ‘On My Way to...’ we are in the bright sun-filled city of Marrakech. Today we are going to go around the city and explore the town’s whereabouts. Stay with us as we roam the beautiful city, and get lost in its colours. I am Louis, your favourite tourist, and we are live in Marrakesh!”

“And cut! Good intro Louis. We have the Minaret and domes in the backdrop, next we will start with what we know about it. Do you need five for script?” The director asks.

“Nah, Zaynie-poo, this boy is ready to rumble. Just could you get me some glucose perhaps? Feeling a bit down here.” Louis says.

The shooting starts again and this time the camera has shifted to the front of the Mosque. It seems that the camera’s aim was too high up.

“Hey, hey, hey! I am down here! Stop picking on the short guy. Today in live at Marrakesh we will be starting it religiously, paying our gratitude to God and his beautiful home here. Smack dab in the south-west Medina Quarter, is the beautiful Koutoubia Mosque. The Koutoubia Mosque is a landmark structure in Marrakech. Construction of the minaret was completed under the reign of Yaqub al-Mansur (Almohad Caliph Yaqub al-Mansur), who ruled between 1184 and 1199.  The Koutoubia Mosque is an engineering feat, topped with four copper globes, and is visible from near and far. It’s not really that high, only 77 metres, but thanks to local topography and a local ordinance that forbids any other building in the Medina to be higher than a palm tree, it towers majestically over its surroundings. It’s still an active place of worship, and non-Muslims may not enter. But it’s possible to get a good view of the exterior by walking around either side. The place is also known as The Booksellers Mosque.” Louis made a full circle while speaking expressively. He was an expressive talker. Hands and face actively indulgent. A crooked smile, a broken tooth, and eyes that sparkle in the sun. And he was loud. Like he was bouncing off the walls loud. People around them had stopped to look at the shoot going on so the camera cut to the people standing there, making a good view for a back drop to Louis’ voice. He liked this. It was better than having a tour guide.

The shoot around the Mosque ended in 45 minutes of which 25 minutes were just Louis talking about the importance of the Mosque and its location and history. The camera crew went around the Mosque and caught some picturesque views on cam. And with that the shoot was over.

“Good job everybody! Lunch at Jemma El Fnna square, at Cafe Kessabine. Pack up in ten!” Zayn, the director said.

Louis came bounding up to Harry and asked him to accompany them for lunch. They would be going to Dar Si Said Museum after lunch. And Louis invited Harry to tag along. Harry, confused and curious as he was, asked Louis why he wanted a complete stranger to tag along. To which he got a sweet reply, “We meet people in all walks of life, some we gather, and some we let go. You seem like someone who would be priceless to my communion.”

At the lunch table, Louis insisted he sit with Harry and Zayn followed him. “So, I heard you work for Liam.” Zayn, the director asks. He was still wearing the ridiculous cap and his sunglasses; it was difficult to take him seriously.

“With him, not for him. We are partners at the firm. How do you know Liam?” Harry said, at which Louis ended up laughing.

“You don’t take shit from anybody do you? You are really cool Harold.” Louis said. “I bet you and Liam never talk about personal lives.”

“Correct. We don’t indulge in each other’s lives.” Harry answered monotonously. Though he was enjoying himself, he was still stoic, his long hair blew with the wind that flew above them, the parasol under which they were sat fluttering above them.

“Hmm, I never noticed how long your hair is. It’s really long and thick. It’s cool. But are lawyers allowed to have hair like this in court?” Louis asks.

“I never go to court.” Harry answers uninterestedly. He still wanted to know how these two knew Liam, maybe he wanted to pry deeper, for once in his life.

“What kind of a lawyer never goes to court?” Zayn asks, flabbergasted.

“A really good one, Zaynie.” Louis says, smirking. “You do live up to your name. Best closer in England. When was the last time you went to court? 2014 I remember. He fought my mum’s road-crash case, pro-bono of course. Won in 3 minutes. Charged the opposition party for legal fees, £15,000 per minute.” Louis says, proud and gleeful. “I like him. I like him a lot. He’s one hell of a man. Though his father is a scary guy. Threw me out of his casino in Shanghai.”

“Excuse me, I am sat right here. Anyways, enough about work. Tell me how do you know Liam?”  Harry said, slightly aggravated.

“Oh right. He never mentioned Zayn, or a fiancée? Anything?” Louis asks.

“Now that I think about it, he does wear a very huge diamond ring. Is he engaged?  I mean, I told you, I know little to nothing about the guy.” Harry said with a slight change in his emotionless stoic face.

“This is the guy Niall was fawning over. Seriously, he is a nut job. He has an emotional range of a lemon. Sour and sour. That’s all.” Zayn said with an irritated look on his sunglasses clad face.

“I am sorry, did you just say, Niall? As in Horan? Top lawyer, the one who should have been the partner but didn’t cut it? Niall ‘asshole-cunt’ Horan? Swears like it’s his job, piercing on his tongue, dyed his hair lavender in 2014?” Harry asked, curious.

“That brought an emotion on his face. Yes, that cunt. My best mate and roommate from college. He was the one who introduced me to Liam. And don’t worry he isn’t pissed about not making it to the top this time. He is waiting for Smith’s retirement.” Zayn says.

They chatter around this way while they have some rolls and salads and juices, and later they chatter away as Harry pays for their food.

They spend the evening looking around the museum and the Palais Bahia (Bahia Palace). The palace has a set of garden. It was built in the late 19th century, intended to be the greatest palace of its time. The name means "brilliance". As in other buildings of the period in other countries, it was intended to capture the essence of the [Islamic](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Islamic_culture) and [Moroccan style](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Culture_of_Morocco). There is a 2-acre garden with rooms opening onto courtyards. The harem, which includes a vast court decorated with a central basin and surrounded by rooms intended for the concubines. As the black slave, Abu Ahmed rose to power and wealth towards the end of the 19th century; he had the Bahia palace built by bringing in craftsmen from Fez.

It had a rich history and the crew had permission to shoot. So Harry got to hear about its magnificence through Louis who did a great job at explaining its importance. Harry especially liked how Louis looked genuinely genius and interested when he spoke about the palace.

Later at night, Louis asked him of his accommodation and he said that the company had made reservations for them at la Mamounia and that they will be staying there for a week in order to stay for the July Craft’s festival. Harry accompanied them to the hotel and they found out how they were staying at the same floor. All three of them had suites and the rest of the crew was living at a Madrasa Dorm nearby. Harry though it would be a good idea to invite them out for drinks and so he asked them and got a yes from Louis but a no from Zayn, he was 5 years sober, hadn’t touched a drink. Harry doesn’t force him out.

The two of them ended up at the Royal Mansour bar. It was the best bar around. It looked extremely beautiful inside. Though it was difficult getting seats within, but once they did, they ordered drinks and sat in a comfortable silence. Music played in the background and people in rich clothes walked by them. Then Harry suddenly noticed exactly how this Louis Tomlinson looked. Clad in a complete black suit which had even darker black embroidered outside with a woollen, black turtleneck from Burberry and black skinny jeans that complimented the short man’s curvy legs. Harry was mentally swooning over those legs; he probably had a nosebleed too. His hair was slicked back and he had shaved. His blue eyes were glistening like the sea at night-time after a tumultuous storm and they matched the brooch.

“You look good.” Harry absent-mindedly said.

“Thank you very much! You look pretty good too. By the way, I read a lot about you on the internet after the first time you came to our rescue. Mum was so sure we were gonna lose the case, but then Zayn told me we could go to Liam and Liam sent you to us. It was very bold of you! I heard it was only within 8 months of you working there. You saved us a life of debt; I mean more debt, not like we weren’t buried up to our necks.

“My dad was an asshole, he left mum when she was pregnant with me. She met a nice guy, Mark, my step father. I got my surname from him, and she got four of her daughters. Well, it turned out that by the time I turned 18, he lost his job, became a drunk, and gambled away all our money so my mum threw him out. Mum is a mid-wife, the pay is not so great but, it helped as she pushed me through college. See I was scouted for Columbia, got a decent scholarship. Met Zayn there. Brit’s hang together, don’t they. We both struggled. I paid for the accommodation with whatever little money mum sent and the rest I earned by working myself to almost death.

“I worked at the cafe in the campus, went to classes, went to the board council meetings, attendee theatre practice, did an extra course on travelling and guides. Did an internship with Thomas Cook. Then came back and worked the nightshift at the library. I never wanted to be a burden on anybody. Mum had my sister’s so I tried to avoid asking her for money. Didn’t go home for 6 Years. 

“Was stuck there with Zayn and Niall after college. They took me under their wing. Niall was a rich lolly, so rent and food became free. But I kept up with the work. But you know NY’s pretty brutal. An Irish Lawyer, a gay media student, and  a gay Muslim guy trying to be a director’s assistant. Brutal.  I mean we couldn’t walk down to the corner store without someone being racist or homophobic. And people always made Niall miserable. It was annoying. And on top of it, the city was too cramped and smelly. Couldn’t even sleep at night sometimes, that city actually never sleeps. And rain made everything soggy and sad, unlike the GB rains. And it was always empty. I felt empty.

“You might know the loneliness. You studied at Harvard for your bachelor’s, masters and doctorate didn’t you? When I came back home, my mum had already remarried. Dan was a nice man. I got a job at BBC right off the hook. Media studies and Travelling, they thought up a new show. The first run was pretty successful. “On my way to (ellipses)” that’s the show’s name. Pretty fun. Never get to stay at one place. No strings attached with the places and people. I was a free bird. I got to live my dream every day. And then one day in the middle of my first season’s shoot, we were in Kyoto I remember, I got a call from mum telling me how she had gotten into an accident. I panicked. I packed up and left for London. Zayn wasn’t the director then, he was assisting Danny Warwick then. Hector Spiny, my old director, gave up the shoot. Tried to fire me, didn’t have the authority, ended up fired himself. And Zayn told me to go to Liam, because I needed a lawyer for mum. And then entered you, in that conference room. I knew you hadn’t even seen me. You talked to mum. Your assistant took notes and then you said, just as stoically as you had entered that you weren’t going to charge us anything. Mum asked you if it meant you won’t charge whether you won or lost. And you coolly said, don’t worry ma’am. I don’t lose. The confidence and the way you held yourself that day, man. I became obsessed with you.

In a way you had saved us from a lot of trouble. I was indebted to you. But I couldn’t do anything to ever make it up to you. And then I actually crashed into you today and for the first time since that day, I felt like you were human after all. All I saw back then was a machine who was trying to prove something. Like you had a goal. Something was amiss within you. But then I saw you today and you were breathtakingly human. I still see the edges around you, but more human than rock-like.

“Let me tell you one thing, I liked you very much. The moment I saw you enter that room, I felt like some part inside me had returned. A part I didn’t even know was missing in the first place. Seeing you again today, I felt the same glee and giddiness as I did the first time I saw you. It was a mysterious feeling. But I feel complete all of a sudden.” Louis finished.

Harry was speechless. What was this feeling in his chest? Why was it so heavy? Why did he feel like crying? Why did he feel the need to smile? This man was saying things that made Harry giddy. He was extremely confused. And for the first time in his life, Harry felt like he wanted to tell this man all the sorrows he held inside himself.

“I have a loving mother, a rich father and a supportive sister. But I found myself lonely amongst crowds. I stayed in the states for almost eight years, never once coming back home. My arrival came as a shock not only to me but also to the entirety of my family. I felt like no one wanted me there.

“I went through an ugly rebellious phase in high school, my father decided to send me off to the States so that I could perhaps get an education and the freedom might get my brains chained back to earth.” Harry snorted at that.

“Back in High School, I tried my best to gain attention of the people around me. So I preyed on the weak in order to get in the group of the guys I thought were cool. Dyed my hair pink. Pierced my helix. Wore eyeliner. Tried drugs. Got into school scuffles and street fights. Tatted my body relentlessly. Didn’t turn up at home for days. And all that time all I felt the space between me and my family grow deeper.

“When I went away to Harvard to study law, I thought maybe if I tried to be Mr. Goody-two-shoes, my family might accept me in their high-profile. But all it did was proving to me that my existence in the family didn’t matter. I often would see myself as a burden, a chore nobody wanted responsibility over. Although I thought that maybe it was all in my head, I had multiple times witnessed how off-handedly my family treated me. All I ever wanted was approval from my family, but it seemed that no matter what I did, I just couldn’t get them to look at me.“  
I tried killing myself in my third year, in a desperate attempt to not be so invisible. I met people who knew me for my father’s name. I couldn’t even walk around campus without hearing my father’s name.

I heard things like, “Isn’t that Desmond Styles’ son?” “I guess that is why he got in?”

“Styles? You are Desmond’s son. How does he feel about you being drunk in class?”

“Styles---“

“Styles this and Styles that. Disappointment flashed clear in their eyes when people saw me.

“I tried hard every day to fit in. To seem like an earnest student who had potential. It seemed as if I was not required. My relentless attempts, futile; I was only seen as a cash cow to the people and a disappointment to the faculty.

But somewhere amidst it I found myself dreaming up a love. A love to go somewhere. Somewhere far away from there and home. To never go back.

“I completed the degree and came back home on my father’s orders. And even then everyone was surprised, when a well-groomed, suited up boy with hollow dreams sat across them at the dining table. The helix earrings were gone, the pierced skin anew. All tattoos were hidden under the clothes, except for the cross in the junction between my thumb and wrist.” Harry picked his thumb and showed the tattoo. “No eyeliner coating the rich emerald eyes matching my father’s.

“I tried to end my life way back when I was just turning 20. But all I received was a bunch of roses and money transfers. I hate roses. And then I realized that day that for my father, I was only $45,000 and a chauffeur-driven car, nothing more. No one cared if I died.” Harry had a bittersweet look on his face.

“I mean in a world, where your mother doesn’t acknowledge your presence at the dining table, who would care if you live or die? I had no one. People made fun of me for being the rich kid. I was the social outcast. My family forgot about my existence. I thought I was free to do anything. And when I did I got reprimanded. I thought maybe they cared, but no, it wasn’t the caring reprimanding. It was the prison punishment. They put me into a solitary and left me to the world’s hands. The world is a fucked up place I realized on my own. The people in it are harmful. Nobody can be trusted. 

“I mean how bad can a person’s luck be?

“ Despised my whole life.”

“Out casted for being despised.”

“People kept me near to leech off of me.”

“Then threw me away for standing up for me.”

“Never had a joy that money couldn’t buy.”

“My laughter was forced in and my lips locked tight at the age of four.”

“So finally when I decided that I didn’t need this world, that instead of trying to think of everyone as a villain, I would stop being the pathetic protagonist and would become somebody else, this world goes ahead and shits on me. I get into an accident and have my leg amputated. So everyone around me despises me for being a handicap. So to walk I get a metal leg. Then I get even more out casted for having a leg that’s not human.

“My life has been nothing but a series of disarrayed events that stole the life out of me. I would give anything to have people worry about me. Maybe scold me, care about me. You know, the day I returned from NY, I suit up the way my dad wanted me to my whole life, and instead of getting a welcome back or how are you, and he throws a job proposition at me. Then when I am at my wit’s end and just want to leave the dining table, he says that, ‘a man who doesn’t eat at the table, doesn’t eat at all’, like it hasn’t been three hours since I’ve been back and he goes ahead and doesn’t even let me  have dinner. Hilarity of the moment is that my sister and mother ignore me like the plague. They don’t even acknowledge the fact that I was being berated again for something so stupid.

“This is so stupid.” Harry says, slouching over forward.

Drinks were gone, the night was ending and Harry felt lighter than he ever did before.

Back at the hotel, both of them are pretty tipsy, feeling light-hearted and their laughter bouncing off the elevator walls, Louis suddenly remembers he had to say something to Harry.

“Tomorrow we have a busy day. We will be visiting the Majorelle Gardens, Menara Gardens, Saadian Tomb, Agdal Gardens, Le Jardin Secret and just walk around the Medina. So get a good sleep. Lots of travelling on our trip. Be hydrated. I am free from on Sunday. I’ll plan something out. For us. Just the two of us.”

Harry smiles widely, two dimples popping out and his eyes shine so bright, Louis feels like he is going to get lost in them. Louis blushes inadvertently. ‘This man was beautiful.’ Louis thought.

Harry kissed Louis on the cheek as subtle as he could, give his level of inebriation. And Louis has a mental nose-bleed.

 

~~~

 

 

 

6th July, 2018

 

“That was a terrible idea.” Louis says as he runs away from Harry who is running after him because Louis just dunk his head in the fountain.

It was end of the shoot. And they were already packing up. The day was about to be over and Harry and Louis were trying to have fun.

Louis saw a tremendous change in the way Harry acted around him after last night. The little heart-to-heart confession they did to each other accidentally ended up creating a deep bond between the two. They had become such close friends that they started pranking each other around the set. They sprayed water over each other by making holes in the water bottles or stole the chair from underneath the other person. They teased each other relentlessly and the jokes and sarcasm just kept flowing out of their mouths.

Harry would say he was having the time of his life.

Again that night, the two of those decided to have dinner out on the rooftop at the hotel’s restaurant. Harry asked Hakim to be their server, because the man was trustworthy.

The two men talked some more about life and love.

And somehow it turned into a conversation on how many’s and why’s?

The two men weren’t inexperienced, not in the least. However, the topic seemed to put Harry off. He hadn’t accepted his sexuality until recently. And since then he had tried to learn more about what being labelled a certain something worked like. He was still a little wary and afraid. He was most afraid because being gay in an Islamic country like that, it was a bit off-putting.

However, Louis eased the conversation out of Harry. Harry had no choice but to give in.

Louis asked Harry why he had grown his hair out like that.

“It’s nice. Makes me feel like myself. I once chopped it off and I felt like my clothes had been stolen away.” Harry replied. Louis just couldn’t keep his hands to himself once he had one too many drinks and had insisted Harry loosen his hair out. Harry purred softly as Louis massaged his scalp.

Louis enjoyed tangling his fingers within Harry’s silken hair and Harry loved having his hair played with.

It was a win-win.

Louis invited Harry over to his suite and Harry obliged.

But the moment the doors closed behind Louis, Harry’s lips were on his. It was a chaste kiss. A bit reluctant, the hesitance very clear. But when Louis pulled Harry back into another, He felt all the wariness leave his body.

Louis pulled Harry to his couch and sat him down. He opened their blazers and kissed down his throat. Louis tried opening up the shirt buttons of both his and Harry’s shirt. Harry helped him out in opening a couple of shirt buttons off and Louis immediately bent down to suck on the exposed skin. He traced his tongue over the swirls of dark ink and revelled in the feeling of Harry’s long fingers kneading at his back steadily.

But that was the end of it. They couldn’t take it any further. The pleasant buzz of the alcohol from earlier wore off and so did the butterflies in their stomachs. They realized where they were. Even if they were inside a hotel room and were well within their privacy, a looming fear hung over them. All the alcohol induced recklessness disappeared in thin air.

But it was enough. The feeling of their swollen lips gliding together, their tongues massaging the other, it was enough. The buzz in their bones in the aftermath was enough.

“Tomorrow we have plans to visit The Museum, the Almoravid Koubba, the Musée Bert-Flint,             and just walk around the souks in the evening and later visit the local food-stalls for some nice local eating. Lots of walking tomorrow. Dress accordingly. It might get hot.” Louis warned Harry before shoving the younger man out the door and shutting it promptly and sliding down against it.

Harry didn’t feel bad about it. He felt the same way. It was risqué, racy. It was enough to ignite his nerves.

Later in bed, Harry dreamt of blue eyes and soft lips. He dreamt of all the memories he captured. He dreamt of pranks and laughter. And he dreamt of kisses on the skyline.

And so did Louis.

 

 

~~~

 

“Louis I am tired. Can we just take a break?” Zayn asked after the shoot at the last site, Musée Bert-Flint was over.

“Okay. Harry and I are going to go ahead towards the Kasbah, how about you lot just go by on your own. It’s not like I have any work over there. We just need lots of images and videos of pretty market lights and food. We will be actual touristy out there. Toodles Zaynie-poo.” Louis said before grabbing his camera and travel bag and taking off.

Harry and Louis were off in a wink. They went off to the Kasbah and the first thing they tried was a B’stilla and Orange juice. Next they tried a Ma’qooda. They walked around a bit and found a Chebakia stall. They bought a single one with some harira and they could only eat half of it, because it was too sweet. They walked to the olive souk in Jemaa el Fna and suddenly found themselves in front of a large cooked lamb. They saw a board that said, “Mechoui 160 Dirhams”. They took a small plate and had to ask him to make it a take away because they couldn’t finish eating it right there.

They walked around a bit, drank another orange juice and enjoyed the scenic views. Harry took many pictures and even asked a passer-by to take a picture of them. After that was done they found themselves taking a plate of Tanjine which they ate with a piece of bread. It was fulfilling and its taste was overwhelming.

They saw the signboards of well-known patisserie Al Jawda and Patisserie de Prince. Louis went to the latter and Harry went to the former. They bought sweets from both and then found themselves sitting at a bench, the sun setting in on them and the orange and violet sky casting a heavenly feeling upon them. They were tired and satisfied. It felt like a perfect way to end the day.

 

 

~~~~

 

Louis doesn’t remember when he started to fall for Harry. Was it the way the setting sun-light bounced off his skin, or was it the way his eyelashes cast looming shadows on his face? Was it the way he walked all confidently and still managed to stumble or was it the way his long hair swayed from hip to hip? Was it the eyes or the dimples? Or was it the aching jaw line? Or was it the way he felt so close and homely, like a blanket in front of the fireplace on a winter night? What was this about Harry that made him so desirable, so lovable?

Love-able?

Like, love? What was this aching in his chest? What was this emotion he felt? Could this truly be, love?

The night fell upon them, but Louis had figured out the reason for his smiles. The fluttering in his heart and the 1000 tonne weight on him, this abnormal feeling was love. In a place like this, with a man he had met years ago and had failed to make an impact on? It had truly happened. Louis had gone off the deep edge and there was no way he was to be saved.

But when he looked towards the other side, he saw the crew closing in. This feeling of now or never fleeted within him. He wanted to express what he had figured, but before he could Harry interrupted him.

“So, Louis. I came to know that you have a flight tomorrow. Leaving for Spain. I guess this is goodbye then.”

The look on Harry’s face was utterly heart-breaking, disappointment and a hint of forlorn lingering in his eyes. 

“Hey, only three more weeks and then I will be going back to UK. Maybe we can meet again?” Louis asked hopefully.

There was a moment of happiness before Harry said, “It’s not like it’s going to happen. You travel the world and I just sit in an office cabin and stare at files. It’s totally not compatible. I mean we walk different roads, Louis. I hope you noticed, but I am pretty much the most annoying person on earth, besides being a pushover.”

“Lou, we should call it a night. We have flight right after breakfast and check-out.” Zayn’s voice echoed in Louis’ ears. Louis suddenly felt as if he was under-water. His body was stun-still. His eyes were unseeing, and all he could hear was his heart-beating in his ears. He felt a sudden gush of air blow over them. He saw a figure wave with a saddened smile and leave just as the green in their eyes melted into the darkness looming above.

 

 

 

~~~

 

Zayn wasn’t sure what he did to make Louis so upset. Louis refused to have breakfast and immediately put on headphones as they got into the car. Zayn believed he had never seen Louis so irritated ever before, but this was a new side, the man was too cheerful always, so him showing an emotion other than happiness was more than welcome; but this moodiness was killing him and he wanted to know what happened.

Louis remained silent all through the flight.

 

~~~

 

24th September, 1949

“Have you always been a dumbass, Heath?” Luka said as he dusted the flour off Heath’s head.

“You have no room to make any such comments, Luka. You were the one who started this flour fight to begin with. And you are the most annoying man I have ever met. Like how could you ever think that I could even have an ounce of concern for you? I was only making these cookies because I wanted to appreciate you. But now I don’t think it will be possible.” Heath huffed, feigning anger.

“Hey, princess, I am not sorry. Get it, not sorry. Not in the least, because you deserve it. I was trying to be helpful, but you have a rod up your ass and don’t know how to have fun. So excuse me for having a sense of humour.” Lukas said.

“What did you just say?” Heath asked as he turned around and attacked Lukas with a punch that got blocked. Lukas kicked Heath’s foot and rocked his balance before pouncing on him and dropping them both to the floor.

The flour around them caused a dust storm in the room. Lukas had his eyes closed to avoid the flour from going in his eyes and so had Heath. When Lukas opened his eyes, his face was dangerously close to the brat’s face. Heath’s eyes were still closed but he felt Lukas’ breath tickle his face. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the look in Lukas’ eyes. He had a flush spreading across his face.

Lukas looked warily at Heath, the urge to press his lips to Heath’s overwhelmed him and he blushed furiously. Heath looked hesitantly before pulling up and freeing his hands from Lukas’ free hold and entwined them on his back before leaning forward, their noses a few centimetres away and then glanced at his lips before Lukas himself surged up to press a kiss to his lips.

It all happened in the fraction of a second, but the way it happened made it seem like hours of fragmented movement. The kiss left them both flustered. Was this kind of proximity even natural? Especially between two men who have grown up together? Those questions lingered in the backs of their minds, but no plausible answer could be thought of when their lips pressed together gave them such feelings. Feelings of warmth blossoming in their stomachs and a zoo facing an earthquake in their guts. They knew what they were trying to do was abnormal, not at all acceptable. A butler and his master falling for each other. No more like keeling over with swords at their necks which they hung by themselves.

The voice of the cleaning maid roused them out of the trance-like staring competition they had fallen into. “Young master, Mr. Thornton? What happened in here? Was Tina trying to bake again?” The maid asked.

Lukas coughed as he pulled himself together. Heath hid his face and in a composed voice said, “No, I was, when I accidentally tripped with the flour box. I am extremely sorry about the, uh, the mess I made. Mr. Thornton will you please escort me to the bath and forgive me for ruining your attire. I am sorry, Elise.”

 

 

~~~

Present Day

“Thank you for choosing British Airways. Its 8:45 AM, its 15 Degrees Celsius & raining outside. This is your captain speaking and we are ready to land.” Harry put his headphones in his carry-on and shut his eyes, regret still pooling in his gut. If he wasn’t such a loser maybe he would have told Louis how amazing it felt to be with him. To Harry, Louis was like the surprise chocolate box from Melange, every filling within came as a pleasant attack on the tongue. Louis was like the silky caramel drip that stunned him while being the tartly strawberry candy filling that leaves a sour and sweet surprise and also the simply divine vanilla cinnamon filling that felt like a calm stream. Louis was an adventure that was risky while being the closest thing he has ever known to be a home.

Louis was the warmth on a winter night, but also a ray of sunshine when the days are gloomy and shadowy. Louis was like the fresh shower on a hot afternoon and he was the piping hot tea in the wet tyranny of Britain. Louis was a lot of things, but he was simply complicatedly, risky and homely, all at once. Louis was the list of paradoxes that fit like a vein towards the heart.

Wow, Harry was a goner.

Liam was stood there to receive him, surprisingly. “Welcome back. I thought you would be gone longer.”

“I thought so too. But I think, too much leisure can kill a man prone to being busy.” Harry said.

Why were they talking like age-old friends?

“Liam, are you engaged to a guy?” Harry asked, surprising only himself.

“I see, you met Zayn then, I presume?” Liam asked as he helped Harry put his bags in the back. “We have been engaged for almost a year now, I guess.”

“Do you know his best friend Louis?” Harry asked.

“You mean our best friend. He is both of ours best friend, and so is Niall. We are almost like a family, the four of us. Why?” The way Liam’s voice worked its way over the word Family, almost hurt Harry, if it weren’t for the fact that Liam meant those words out of pure sincerity and genuine love for the lads.

Harry for the first time felt left out of pure effortlessness of himself and not because he wasn’t needed there. Was he really missing out on having relationships because he was scared of his self-doubts? All his life he had been broken and stolen from. Maybe he needed to let people in to learn more about himself. Will Louis really be the first person he lets in? Because with Louis he didn’t even put up walls, he was just so comforting that those doors to his heart opened like a supermarket’s sensory doors.

“Nothing really. Just made an acquaintance out of him and realized something.” Harry smiled genuinely, albeit sadly.

“Are you smiling? Are those dimples? Harry styles, have you always had dimples on your cheeks?”Liam asked genuinely astounded.

“I am sorry, Liam. I have been too cold to you these past few years. You have been very supportive of me. I only looked at you as if you were some pesky man, but you are a genuinely nice person. I think, I think, I would like to be friends with you and some more people if I could. I mean, being such a rainy cloud all my life was just preparation for the rainbow’s appearance in later life. I appreciate you Liam. Thank you!” Harry said, another smile making an appearance on his face.

‘Louis, I think, I want to find you someday. On my own terms this time. In a way that will make me proud of myself. I want to smile at the world. I want to see the good in the world. Even if it makes me look like the protagonist of a cheesy rom-com. I won’t look at my life like a tragedy anymore. Thank you, Louis Tomlinson.’ Harry thought.

~~~

“Good Morning, Peter. Have a good day!” Harry greeted the security man he had seen every day of his life, for the past four years. Harry got inside the lift car and was faced with a bunch of interns and associates form other departments. He smiled at everyone and waved at them.

Outside, the hot tea cup that Peter, the security guard, was holding dropped and crashed, Peter looked at the closed lift doors flabbergasted out of his mind.

Inside the lift car, Harry took a sip of the Caramel Frappe he bought from Starbucks this morning and the crowd looked at the awfully human behaviour of Mr. Styles, who they had secretly come to know as Mr. Scowl. “You know this morning, while I was standing in queue for the lady to take my order; I remembered a little knock-knock joke. Want to hear?

“Knock Knock?”

“Who’s there?” The crowd chorused.

“Ya.”

“Ya who?”

“Yahoo. I am super glad to meet you!” Harry said giggling at his own stupid joke.

“Glad to meet you too, Sir.” Some voices in the crowd chorused.

The lift stopped at the 12th floor at most of the people got down, some still stuck with a grin on their faces and some with a blown mind.

Harry got down at his floor and he looked at Daisy, the front desk manager and said, “Good morning, look at you Daisy, looking dazzling as always.”

Daisy got up from her seat and looked at him with wide open eyes and her jaw at the floor. He dropped the empty frappe cup in the dustbin and stopped in front of Niall’s office.

“Hey, Whoran! Listen up, drinks on me, 4 in the afternoon. Upstairs, aye?”  Harry shouted at Niall before leaving when Niall just gave him meek thumbs up.

Behind him, Niall walked out of his cabin and looked at Sarah who looked equally astonished. “Was that or was that not Harry Styles?” Sarah nodded hesitantly. “Did he or did he not call me ‘Whoran?’” Sarah nodded once more. “Did he just invite me for drinks at 4, today?” Sarah nodded her movement a bit more complete.

“Sikes, it’s like he is a totally new person!” Niall said before going back to his work.

“Morning Maki! Lunch on me today! How about we go to that Italian place, Vanetti, was it? Please make reservations for us; I hear they make their own wine in Italy.” Harry says with a wide smile. Maki just stops doing what she was doing and looks at Harry a second too long after he enters his office and shuts the door behind him.

Harry looks over his record collection and ends up with Mick Jagger’s Wandering Spirit. He had always loved this album.

“ _I said, oh, am I running in a race, I said, oh, am I getting anyplace, I said, oh, can I make it? I'm a wandering spirit, yes I am a restless soul, I'm a wandering spirit, there's no place that I can call my own._ ” Harry sang as he danced while over viewing a few case files.

“ _I said, oh, am I running in a race, I said, oh, take that smile right off your face_  
I said, oh, I can't make it, I'm a wandering spirit, there's no place that  
I can call my home, I said, oh, am I running in a race, I said, oh, take that smile, right off your face, I said, oh, I can't make it.” Harry sang, the words meaning something more than just the words of the song.

Even the song reminded him of Louis. He sat down and thought what he was thinking of doing over and over again.

The week went by and the idea started taking form rather than being abstract forever. He saw the latest episode of ‘On my way to...’ and for the entirety of 52 minutes fawned over Louis speaking some broken Spanish.

“Liam, I need to urgently go to Spain. A, a relative of my, uh, yeah, my maid is unwell. And she wanted to go over. So I promised to accompany her.” Harry lied, or well, he tried.

“Yes, Harry. You can go to Room No. 12, Angeles 7, in Old Town, Seville. If you leave by the six’ o clock flight from Bristol, I bet you will make it.” Liam says with a laid-back smile.

“Thanks Liam.” Harry says, grinning.

~~~

“Louis, I think we should stay in tonight. I am super tired. I would much rather sleep than walk around.” Zayn said as he tried to make Louis stay in.

“Yeah, no. You sleep, I will be around. Should I bring something back for you?” Louis asks.

“Nope. It’s alright. See you in the morning. Ask the crew guys if they wanna join you.” Zayn suggests.

Louis does so and surprisingly all Crew members had other stuff to do. So it was just him alone in the town. He walked around town and found little titbits that entertained him or caught his attention. He bought some souvenirs and then grabbed something to eat.

Louis was still not over how he let the love of his life walk away. But he was trying to hold it all in and pretend as if everything was absolutely alright. As if he wasn’t an inch away from breaking down and crying. He blamed it all on Harry for really being such a push-over; for being such a downer, for being a self-doubting bastard. Why did he hate himself so much? Why did he hate the wor- no wait- Louis knew why Harry hated the world. It was a valid reason.

But why couldn’t he be more of a man and just scream it out loud to Harry? Why did his tongue stop him from saying it out loud? He tries blaming Zayn, but can’t. He tries blaming the circumstances, and it still all ends up at him being a coward.

Lately, Louis had been imagining Harry around him everywhere. Like behind the crew members during the shoot, amidst the crowd when walking around, in his room, in his dreams, in his every waking moment. It was as if his regrets haunted him.

As Louis walked back to the inn, he saw a person standing at the door. The person was wearing an expensive suit and their shoes gleamed in the fading streetlights. Far-away the festival lights shone over their shadow and cast multiple colours on their face. Their hair was short, almost a curly fringe and then untamed back-frame like a halo. It looked like a younger version of Harry, but this was a figment of his day-dream, wasn’t it. If he blinked too many times, the figure will be gone. So Louis refrained from blinking.

“Louis! There you are! I have been waiting here for over an hour now.” The figment said.

“Louis, hey!” Harry said, a smile spreading across his features. It was so bright; Louis almost had to squint to look at the source. He blinked twice, thrice, four times and saw that Harry was still standing there. Now a sudden emergence of a bouquet of Begonias in his hand wrapped in a red ribbon paused him in his track.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” Louis asked, trying and failing at being non-chalant.

“You see, a certain someone took off into the sunset with my poor bandaged heart and made promises of meeting again. But forgot to give me his phone number. Or leave any sort of contact info.  I could have easily gotten this info from a friend at work, but I am a closet romantic. I love aesthetically romantic things, like cheesy rom-coms, Shakespeare, Bouquets, balloons, chocolates and dates under the stars.” Harry said, grinning widely.

“You came all the way to Seville to get my number?” Louis asked.

“Yes, precisely, affirmative.” Harry teased.

“So if I give you my number, you will go away?” Louis asked.

“Yes, I have a flight at 3:45 in the morning. Got to get to work in the morning, ya see?” Harry feigned seriousness.

“Okay. Give me your phone, I will connect you to all my social media; give you my number as well as my email address. So that we can constantly be in touch.” Louis said, falling for Harry’s serious act.

“That’s a bonus.” Harry said smiling.

Louis returned Harry’s phone and looked as Harry began leaving, the bouquet now in Louis’ hands. “Adios!”Harry said before he decidedly left.

Louis stood there dejectedly looking at his feet. Suddenly he saw a shadow come back and a hand on his head. The tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes as he looked up at the hand that rubbed at his head lovingly.

“Dumbass.” Harry said before he pulled Louis into a kiss. Louis got his first fairytale kiss with his Prince Charming and for the second time in his life the loudest person was speechless. The bouquet was pressed to Harry’s nape and Louis’ tiny palm was spread on his upper back. Harry’s hand spread across Louis’ small back and pushed into the soft muscle.

They could hear cheers from the crew members who Harry paid off to shoot the entire thing as if it were a dumb rom-com. Louis looked at them and blushed as he hid his face in Harry’s shoulder while flipping them off.

“Are you bashful or a delinquent?” Harry asked.

“Both.” Louis said biting at Harry’s nape.

Harry pulled him back for another kiss. And Louis kept flipping off the crew while kissing Harry.

The moment went up on the show’s Instagram and Facebook.

“What the fuck did you do to your gorgeous hair?” The question remained unanswered.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment. I live for your approval!!!


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